Leopold examined his nails critically before answering. "I could think of reasons why she wouldn't, but...they seem a bit specious, since the Godmother here seems to be pretty powerful."
"It seemed very odd that she just drove off," the Northerner persisted. "And the more I thought about it, the odder it seemed that we never again saw her, even though her magic was clearly everywhere." He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of examples before Leopold could challenge him. "The mouse-horses. Why would the Godmother give the Queen mouse-horses to use in the trials? That made no sense at all. The idea for the first trial was a smart one, but there was no reason for the Godmother to supply mounts for it. If the Queen was a powerful sorceress, and those were her mouse-horses, why didn't she...do more?" He groped for more examples. "It was a great many very small things. The Godmother and the Queen are exactly the same height. I'm good at measuring those things by eye. The Godmother and the Queen have exactly the same accent, yet the Queen is supposed to be a foreigner. They have the same inflections when they are angry."
He glanced over at Leopold, whose long hair had gone wild in the steam, curling around his face in tendrils. He wondered if Leopold was listening to all this and thinking he was a loon, Leopold nodded. "Then there was the Princess. When she arrived, she wasn't out of her rooms for two days, and when she did appear, the Queen took her off to the Royal Suite and was locked up with her when the messenger came. After that, she's been spending most of her time at the Queen's side. And you would think she would be terrified, being locked up with the Queen for hours at a time. The Queen is older. She has a commanding way, and a young woman like that can only stand up to a woman like the Queen for so long. You'd think she'd be cowed, getting meeker every day." He waited for a response from Leopold.
The Prince scratched his head thoughtfully and stared off into space for a moment. "She wasn't. Even I could see that. She didn't seem properly frightened, in fact, it seemed like she was — they were — "
"Acting together." Siegfried nodded. "It looked to me as if they were pretending they didn't like each other, but they didn't go any further than that, because people here already don't like the Queen and they'll think anything bad of her that you suggest. But the two of them, when it came to getting things done, didn't argue. The Queen didn't even give the Princess an insult now and again, or sneer at her. All she did was keep up the glacier facade, and even that didn't hold up if you looked at her closely."
Leopold pulled a face. "You are still making sense. I didn't even think about it, but then, why would I?"
"Why would anybody? People see what they expect to see." Leopold mustered his thoughts, splashing some hot water over his face to rinse off the sweat. "Then they put together the first contest. I was wondering, when they said that it didn't matter if the contestants didn't have a horse or armor, because they would supply them, if somehow we were going to do this thing in small groups over the course of several days. Because there just weren't enough horses in the Palace stable for all of us, and armor doesn't grow on trees. But no, they say it's going to be one big race, and suddenly there's enough horses for all of us, and matching armor out of nowhere, all the same."
"Magic," said Leopold. "Could have been the Queen — "
"But she had never done anything like that before. That's not small magic. Transforming, creating out of nothing — that's big. If the Queen could do things like that, what does she need with a little Kingdom like Eltaria? No, that's Godmother magic. But where's the Godmother? Nowhere." Siegfried returned Leopold's nod. "So you see. Then I realized the horses were the same ones we rode here on. Exactly the same. I'm big, and there aren't many horses, transformed or not, that are up to my weight."
"Still — " Leopold looked as if he was about to agree but still had a reservation or two about Siegfried's conclusions.
So Siegfried drove his argument home. "But what clinched it was when I saw the Queen and the Princess at the starting line, watching, and then when we got to the middle section and sheep part, there they were again, watching.Maybe they could have gotten faster horses than ours, but we would have seen them passing us. They couldn't have gone by horse, so they had to go by magic and the Godmothers are the only people I ever heard of that could do that." He had to smile as Leopold accepted his clinching argument.
"Do we tell them?" the Prince asked instead. "Do we tell them that we know what the Queen is?"
He shook his head. "Not unless something comes up and she needs to know that we know. It gives us an advantage. I like advantages. I like — " he was about to say "the Princess," but stopped himself in time " — the idea of knowing things no one else knows in a situation like this."
"The bird might tell — " Leopold began, then shrugged. "I suppose you can ask it not to."
"And I will." Siegfried ducked farther down into the hot water. "Tomorrow. Right now I want to soak until all my aches are gone, and then I want to sleep past dawn."
Leopold rolled his eyes and laughed. "Past dawn! Shame! Civilization is making you soft!"
Siegfried threw a handful of water at him.
The Palace ballroom, which had many doors that opened up on the garden, had not been in much use over the past few years. Every time Celeste intended to hold a ball, it seemed, the enemies on the border decided it was time to rattle sabers again, and off King Thurman would go.
All that had changed, and although there was no ball taking place, the ballroom was no longer closed up and dark. Tonight, as on the past several nights, it was lit with thousands of wax candles, and all the doors were standing open wide to a wonderful night breeze coming in from the garden. The garden itself had been illuminated with torches, their light reflecting in the water of little ornamental pools and tiny fountains.
All of the sons-nephews-grandsons of the neighbors were still in the running, and as a consequence, the borders were still clear, and Godmother Lily had told Rosa not to worry for now. So she was trying not to; trying to actually enjoy some of this.
The much-thinned ranks of the Princes milled about the garden and ballroom, while a single minstrel played in one corner. There was wine to drink, and there were still lovely ladies to flirt with, and none of those lovely ladies but the Princess had been present to see what fools they all had made of themselves at the sheepfolds. Princess Rosamund moved among them and her courtiers, congratulating and commiserating in turn.
At the moment, things were not going as she had planned or hoped. She had looked in vain for Siegfried and Leopold; they were nowhere in sight, and she felt a twinge of disappointment. She told herself again that she wasn't supposed to have favorites, but it didn't really help.
Then she heard her name in an unfamiliar voice. "Princess Rosamund." Just as she was turning around on hearing a little stir from the garden, hoping she might finally catch them coming in the door, one of the crowd in front of her detached himself from the people he was talking to, moved into her path and bowed a little.
She returned the bow with a gracious nod. It was a good thing she had early on learned the trick of pinning names to faces quickly, for she had his name on her tongue before he had straightened. "Prince Desmond. You did well out there, and I understand from all that I saw you were particularly deft in the middle stage." She did not say that Siegfried and Leopold had been just as quick without the use of magic. That would not have been politic, and besides, this was the first time she had seen this particular young man except at a distance. He certainly was worth a closer look.
The Prince in question was undeniably good-looking. He was built as well as any of the candidates, and better than some. Wide shoulders did not strain the velvet of his tunic; it was fitted to him too well for such a tailoring mistake. A sash-belt with an ornamental sword hanging from it showed off a narrow waist without making it look as if he wastrying to do so. Good, muscular legs inside formfitting moleskin breeches made it very clear that Desmond rode, rode well and rode often.
As for the rest of him,
blue eyes glittered at her from a face that was just saved from being too pretty by a good square jaw. A comma of black hair over one eyebrow saved his short ebony locks from being arranged a little too perfectly. He smiled charmingly, and had very white teeth. "If by that, Princess, you mean to imply that I had magical help, yes I did. There was nothing in the rules forbidding it." His smile broadened. "In fact there wasn't much in the rules at all. Very wise. If you'd forbidden anything, plenty of people would try to violate the rule, someone was sure to cry foul, and we would be running the same race for the next fortnight. The shepherds would appreciate it, but not the sheep, and certainly not us."
She shrugged. "It isn't as if you all are without resources, and the trial is supposed to weed those who have little from those who have a great deal to offer. I must find out just what resources those are, and how clever you are with them. My people have a saying, 'Never buy a pig in a sack.'"
"I think that's a universal," said Desmond, then cocked his head to the side in a curiously charming gesture as he shifted his weight to his other foot and she fanned herself. "That is a rather earthy sort of saying."
"I am a rather earthy sort of Princess," Rosamund replied, throwing him a challenge. "My mother was a shepherdess, after all." There were those that would find that a distinct handicap. Let's see how he reacts to that.
"Was she?" He chuckled. "My grandfather made clocks. As a hobby, but they were rather good ones. We think he probably would have made a better clockmaker than a ruler. He certainly would have been happier as a clockmaker. There is something to be said for being happy in what you do." Desmond's smile didn't waver. Well good, he wasn't going to run screaming because she was half commoner.
"Do you expect to get similar magical help with the rest of the trials?" she asked. "It would be useful to know that, from my perspective. Resources, after all — was this just a onetime charm, or do you have someone you can call on at will? I suppose you already know that since we know some of you will be using magic, we're concocting contests where magic won't help." I hope, she added mentally.
"Oh, I would expect that. You've already shown how clever you are, just by staging all of this — " his gesture took in the room full of Princes and the gardens beyond " — in order to hold off the wolves that would have descended when your father died. I admire your skill and your wit, Princess, and your ability to think when pressed and pressed hard. You have enemies ready to swoop down over the borders and swallow you whole, so you manage to get almost a hundred ostages to come to you and put themselves willingly in your hands. Very good strategy. I couldn't have managed better myself."
For a moment, it seemed as if the two of them were encased in a bubble that held everyone else out. He gazed into her eyes with a hint of challenge. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't approve?"
"Oh, I very much approve. I wouldn't be here myself if I didn't approve." His smile never wavered. "There are plenty of available royal ladies out there who don't have the sense to save themselves or the wit to figure out how. They rely on men to do all that for them. They don't interest me."
"And I do?" She was getting charmed, despite trying not to be. She couldn't help it; that last came out with more than a hint of flirtation in it.
"I wouldn't still be here if you didn't." He gave her a bow, and the moment passed, the invisible bubble evaporated, and people were moving into their space as they talked. "But I am keeping you from the rest of your guests. I understand that protocol must be observed here. It wouldn't do to be seen talking too long with any particular fellow among us. You can't have favorites."
But his knowing smile said not even me, even though you'd like that.
"Quite right." She gave him a nod, and softened it with a smile. "Best of luck in the next contest, Prince Desmond."
As she moved on to the next guest, a waft of breeze carried the scent of roses in from the garden and she found she was still smiling, the disappointment over not seeing Siegfried quite, quite gone.
* * *
Lily collapsed in a chair beside the cold fireplace, which in summer was filled with flowers. Once the last of the spells had been broken, she felt as if she had been carrying every one of those Princes across the finish line on her own back. It had been a very, very long day, first transforming, then releasing all those mouse-horses, conjuring and dismissing the armor. Even with nearly unlimited Traditional power pressing down on this kingdom like swollen-bellied rain clouds, the work had still taken its toll on her. A hot bath had helped, and after a light supper Rosamund had volunteered to be the gracious hostess, and Lily had blessed her for the few hours alone. She'd not gotten many of those of late, and she surely missed her privacy and the comfort of her own Palace.
This was the most time she had spent in the company of anyone other than her Brownies in decades. Godmothers generally worked alone, and Lily was no exception to that rule. She had forgotten how wearying the constant presence of mortals was. Especially when she had to keep up her disguise of Queen Sable. They seemed to be everywhere, and they all wanted something of her. Her Brownies were exquisitely sensitive to her moods, and knew when to leave her alone. The human servants...weren't. If she didn't periodically lock her door, she'd never keep them out.
But now the doorswere locked, the windows were open, there was a lovely breeze coming in off the garden, and the people who crammed the Palace full betrayed themselves by nothing more annoying than a distant murmur, like bees. She sipped at a glass of sherbet.
"Have you had any luck with the Huntsman?" she asked aloud. And Jimson, as she had known he would, answered her.
"He has been very circumspect, Lily. He's scarcely moved from his quarters except to conduct his duties. I don't understand it. In short, he gets up, he eats, he goes out to hunt, he comes back laden with game for the royal tables, he eats, and then goes to sleep."
She frowned. That was unexpected. She had thought that surely he would have made contact with one of the Princes — whoever had paid him to dispose of Rosa. She wouldn't have thought he'd have given up so easily. "Somehow I don't think we frightened him. Do you?"
"No," the Mirror Servant said flatly. "I do not." Then Jimson sighed, and Lily thought she detected a distinct note of guilt in his voice. "I believe he has been ordered to keep quiet, possibly by one of the candidates our neighbors sent, although how he got those orders, I don't know. I thought I was watching him very closely. I am sorry. I must not have been watching him closely enough. This is on my head."
"It's not your fault," Lily replied, waving off the apology. "You've been every bit as busy as Rosa and I have. For all we know, the Huntsman's orders came in a note left in a kennel, and catching him looking for that would have taxed anyone. It's not as if I haven't had you doing the work of three Mirror Servants — even with the help of your Apprentices — " She paused when Jimson coughed discreetly. "What is it?"
"Oh, I have been watching the Huntsman personally," Jimson replied, "I hope you do not think I delegated that — "
"I know better than that. Don't be ridiculous, Jimson. I work you harder than any Godmother has ever worked someone, and I know I can always rely on you to do what you say you will — no one could keep up with me but you! I really do not know what I would do without you, especially now!" She smiled over her shoulder at him, and he flushed a slightly deeper green. "If you need more apprentices for this, then get them. Let them handle things that are tedious and less important. I need you for the clever things." She got up and moved to the chair facing the mirror. As another breeze wafted through the room, she lifted the hair off the back of her neck to let the cooling air get to it. "Speaking of clever things, the next contest should be something where magic is not going to help. There were too many of those young men using charms — and I don't think that the King of Eltaria should place too much reliance on magic — except for mine." She sighed. "And mine is not infallible."
Jimson frowned, his brows furrowing. "That isn't going to be easy. You can forbi
d the use of it, but that doesn't mean they won't cheat. Finding a task where magic is useless will be a tall order."
"I've been thinking about this a little." She sipped her sherbet and pondered the question. "We could make it strictly a test of intelligence, a chess tournament, perhaps. Though I am not sure that would serve if not all of them know chess. Or solving a puzzle? That's Traditional."
"Don't make it untying a knot," Jimson replied, making a face. "There's a Traditional answer for that, which leaves you without a knot to be solved by the rest of the candidates. And they can't all chop the thing to bits."
She twined a strand of hair around her fingers, thinking. "A maze, a puzzle...we would have to put some sort of negation spell on them so that magic couldn't be used to solve them. Besides, that seems too...small." She shook her head. "Am I not thinking spectacularly enough?"
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